


You Are My Sunshine

by mobilicordis



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Porn with Feelings, Young Harry Hart, Young Merlin (Kingsman)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilicordis/pseuds/mobilicordis
Summary: June, 1984Harry has been admiring his fellow Galahad candidate for some time now. Unfortunately, he's had little time to work through these feelings. One sunny afternoon, however, Hamish takes matters into his own hands. Literally.





	You Are My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just write and post smut? Who am I? Did it also take 3 weeks into fall to post this summer fic?   
Enjoy some soft candidate love <3

June, 1984

It was rare they got a day to themselves during training. They were given half a day per week for recreation, though many of them spent it studying or refining the skills they’d learned throughout the week prior. This day of rest was purely by accident. The combination of Wallace nearly breaking his leg clean off during their parachute test alongside the tensions of the Cold War taking most of the personnel to Berlin, they were forced to postpone the torture training planned for the day.

Harry was thankful for the break, to say the least. The day was beautiful. It was warm without being stifling, and the short dry spell of the week kept the humidity at bay. The sun peeked out between soft clouds, bringing the landscape around the manor to life. Never one to turn down a chance to look upon beauty such as this, Harry sat by the largest window he could find, a full teacup in hand.

There were a few notable varieties of flowers in the garden below his window, though he couldn’t seem to spot any interesting butterflies checking them out. He contented himself with watching a honey bee wiggle its way through to collect pollen on its yellowing knees. As he did many times these days, Harry imagined his childhood bedroom, covered wall to wall in his own sketches from his mother’s garden. He could still remember all the names he spent hours carefully scribing beneath them. He remembered returning home from school at fourteen to see they had all been discarded and his lepidoptery guides replaced with a pile of law books on his desk.

A goldfinch swooped past, landing lightly in a tree at the edge of the lawn.

“Would ye care to go out?” a familiar voice startled him, sending a splash of tea onto his tartan covered chest.

“Hamish, really,” he groaned, turning to the man standing behind him, amusement glinting in his deep hazel eyes. “Must you always sneak about?” The humor spread to Hamish’s mouth, splitting it into a grin that never failed to stop Harry’s heart before sending it racing.

“Aye, for as long as it will make ye jump.” The other man approached, looking over Harry at the garden. “It’s much nicer outside than in. We could go out to the pond.”

Hamish didn’t ask for much. He didn’t speak to many of the other recruits and spent most of his time alone. He was breathtaking and had chosen Harry to be his confidant. He could deny him nothing.

Harry drained the rest of his tea and stood, brushing his hand over the slightly damp spot. “If I must,” he added with a put-upon sigh. Hamish’s smile only grew.

“You were right,” Harry reluctantly conceded as he reclined by the still water of the pond. The walk had been pleasant as they chatted about their respective experiences of falling from 5,000 meters above the ground. It was only a short turn through some trees before the water came into view, but because it was closed off from the view of the manor, it seemed they were entirely alone in the world. “It is much nicer out here.”

Hamish scoffed in mock offense as he sat down beside Harry. “I’m  _ always  _ right. That’s something ye’ll soon come to learn.”

Harry held himself up with both elbows and dropped his head back to stare up at the sky. His body ached in too many places to count and yet he was undeniably in the best shape of his life. Never had long-legged, lanky little Harold had any physique that could be considered even remotely toned, but now he had definition all over his body and he could do things he never dreamed would be possible.

He hadn’t dreamt of doing much at all for a while. Not since mother and father… no, best not to remember that time. 

For much of his life, Harry had very big dreams. He dreamed about all the adventures he took around his family’s estate. Then he dreamed about going into the woods beyond and all the magical creatures he would meet there. And then he discovered lepidoptery. Suddenly, his dreams of adventure spread around the whole globe where he hoped to find and study every single species of butterfly he could.

“What are ye thinking about?” Hamish broke through the fog of Harry’s mind. He blinked away the sunspots in his eyes to look at the man sitting beside him, at the sunlight casting a shadow of the regal nose he pretended to make fun of, at the thinning hair he so desperately wanted to shave off, and at the smooth, tanned skin of Hamish’s neck. He had a peculiar expression on his strong features: soft and warm but still hesitant.

He raised a hand to brush through his own hair, cursing himself for how long he’d let it get. “Just about how absolutely insane this is.”

“What, this job or that dirty nest ye call hair?”

“Oh fuck off,” he said, reaching out to push the other man lightly.

Hamish chuckled and settled down beside him, laying on his side to face Harry. “Really, what’s going on in that massive head of yers?”

Harry met his eyes, thrilling in the sincerity he found there. “I never wanted this. I never planned on joining the army. I wanted to be a lepidopterist.”

“And that’s studying…?”

“Butterflies. I was going to make a nice name for myself travelling the globe to study butterflies.”

Harry held his breath as he waited to be laughed at. Instead, Hamish simply asked, “What do ye like about them?”

He had to actively stop himself from raving about them for as long as he could. “Everything. I love their propensity for change, their ability to adapt to all stages of their lives, despite how different they are. I love how uniquely beautiful they are. I can’t think of a single other thing in nature so stunning. I love how ephemeral they are. They have such an impact on us in such a short lifespan.”

Hamish was silent, and Harry turned his head to see him smirking. He was so handsome, and he wished desperately to tell him how close he was to falling for him. Like every time before, he held his tongue.

“Ye had butterflies, I had airplanes.”

Harry was thankful for the change of topic. “Airplanes?”

“Aye. I always fancied I would be the best pilot who ever lived. It helped, believing I had some way out of the way I was living at the time. One day I was going to build my own plane, scoop up Aileen, my sister, and take her away. I was going to show her the world, give her everything she deserved.” There was something painfully sad in his smile.

“You’ve never spoken of a sister.”

Hamish’s face closed off and Harry almost backpedalled. “That was another thing. I thought that maybe if I could fly, I would be able to take her to somewhere like London and fight any doctor I could until she got the treatment she needed.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “What happened?”

His brows tugged together, creasing his forehead. “The sickness was too great for her little body to overcome. There was nothing we could do, not when we were fighting to even feed her.” Hamish screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head back to the grass. “She passed when I was thirteen. She was only five years old, Harry.”

Vulnerability was certainly not a trait anyone would have used to describe Hamish. Unless, of course, you were Harry Hart, the only one to see him this way.

“Then you grew up and joined the air force,” he said carefully. He wanted to see further inside the mind that fascinated him so.

Hamish nodded. “I promised her I would learn to fly. I saw no reason to break that promise just because she was nae there to fly with me any longer.”

His heart panged for Hamish’s pain. Harry rolled onto his side to look down at him. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s fine. I knew she wouldn’t make it.” His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Harry. There was something so fragile in his gaze. Hamish lifted one hand and slowly brought it up to cup Harry’s cheek. He leaned into the touch and the thumb brushed softly over his cheek, his jaw, his lips. His eyes followed and rested where he gently thumbed Harry’s lower lip, pulling them apart. “Ye’re so beautiful, Harry.”

Finally, Harry allowed himself the pleasure he’d been denied his entire life. He pressed his lips to Hamish’s fingertip and allowed Hamish to pull his head down, meeting him halfway in an impossibly soft kiss.

So  _ this  _ was how it felt to kiss someone special. Despite being a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic, Harry doubted the reality of a ‘spark’ or a ‘lightning bolt’ between two people. He knew now it wasn’t a literal spark, there was no electricity arcing between their lips. It was the feeling of all his nerves coming to life, every inch of his body being swept under a roaring tide of sensation that had him gasping against Hamish’s lips.

In response the Scot pulled back. “I’m sorry if that was-”

“No!” Harry would not hear this man apologize for what had been the greatest kiss of his life. “I’ve just never…”

Hamish’s brow lifted. “Never what? Kissed a man?”

Harry shook his head, brushing Hamish’s fingers along his cheek with the movement. “I have,” he explained shyly, “just never with someone I care about. Someone I wanted to be with.”

As his words registered, Hamish’s eyes darkened. He pushed himself up, shifting to close the fragile distance between them, and pressed in again. Where the last kiss was tentative and calming, this one was controlled, exploratory. Harry very willingly gave himself over.

“I have been watching ye,” Hamish said as his head moved lower, pressing a kiss to Harry’s jaw before dipping to his neck. “Ever since the first day. Ye are a fucking pretentious cock, Harry, but  _ God _ does it work for me.” Hamish’s tongue connected with Harry’s skin, making him gasp and moan. Lips pressed against the spot a second later, sucking ever so slightly.

“H-hamish, you too,” Harry breathed out. Hazel eyes met his.

“Me too what?”

“Watching. Wishing I could-” whatever he was going to say was lost when Hamish claimed his mouth again. This time, Harry fisted his hands in the tartan fabric covering Hamish’s chest and pulled them ever closer together. Harry groaned as their tongues slid together smoothly.

Once again, Hamish broke away and turned his attention to Harry’s jumpsuit. He pulled down the zip, uncovering Harry’s bare skin down to the waist.

“Look at ye,” Hamish practically purred, a hand trailing reverently down his exposed flesh. “I remember when we first began training and there was nothing to ye. Ye were so slight. Now look at ye.” Hamish’s finger traced his abs, hands framing his now defined pecs. One swipe of a thumb over a nipple had Harry bucking his hips up to Hamish’s. 

“I wasn’t—  _ fuck, God—  _ that weak,” he groans back, voice breaking as Hamish left a slick path over the bundle of nerves. “I was in the army, after all.”

“Mmhmm.” Hamish’s mouth moved to the other side, sucking gently. Harry whole body buzzed as he jerked up again. “Doesn’t mean ye weren’t skinny as a rail.” A sharp nip of teeth. “Yer muscle is compact, like a runner.”

Harry tried to reply, tried his best to argue—  _ always have to be right, don’t ye, Hart—  _ but his voice left him in a helpless moan as Hamish rolled his hips down, giving Harry his first decadent feel of his own arousal. He felt absolutely  _ massive _ .

“So bloody gorgeous,” Hamish repeated, lips moving back to claim Harry’s. He tried to reciprocate, but he was utterly useless as a passing press of a hip to his aching cock left him boneless and throwing his head to cry out. “So sensitive.”

He needed… needed to talk, but Hamish continued to take and take and take from him. “P-please, Hamish.” A deep growl from above him. “Please, stop.”

Immediately, all contact ceased. Hamish raised up on both arms to look down at Harry, his face so utterly concerned that Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “What? What is it? Did I hurt ye?” He started to move away, leaving Harry feeling cold in the summer heat. “I’m sorry, Harry, I thought ye wanted-”

He finally got his arm to work, throwing out a hand to grasp Hamish’s collar. “I do,” he gasped out. “I do want. Very much.” Hazel eyes softened. “But- but what if someone sees? Or hears?” This was suddenly so real to Harry. They were rutting like teenagers at the side of a lake, not half a kilometer from the manor. “They’d kick us out in a heartbeat. They’ll threaten us to keep us quiet. I… I’d never see you again.” And that was  _ unacceptable.  _ Harry flattened his hand against Hamish’s chest, feeling a strong beating beneath his touch.

“Harry.” Hamish’s voice was so thin and soft. A large hand came up to press against his cheek. Harry readily leaned into the touch, already feeling so familiar. “I will never let anyone hurt ye. When we are together, ye are safe.” Harry nodded, feeling his breath slowing. The hand on his face stroked back into his hair. “Do ye trust me?”

Harry nodded again, gulping. “Yes. I trust you.” Hamish lowered himself slowly, gently pressing his weight to Harry as they kissed. It was slow and sensual and left Harry breathless again. This time he took the initiative in sliding his hands over the firm planes of Hamish’s body to his arse, curling his fingers in to pull his hips down and rolling up to set the rhythm.

It was Hamish’s turn to gasp in surprise. He pulled back to stare down at Harry. His hazel eyes were dark with arousal, the summer sun lighting the golden flecks within the swirl of color. Harry found himself so often staring into those eyes but only now could he do it without guilt weighing his stomach down.

Hamish growled as they rolled together again. “Harry, ye…  _ fuck.” _ Calloused yet gentle hands worked down his torso, slipping teasingly over his nipples, trailing tickling over his flat stomach— more muscular than ever before— and finally settling on his jutting hips, still clothed in tartan.

"May I?" Hamish breathed hot against Harry's already sweaty skin. His thumb circled firmly over the sensitive place just inside his pelvis.

"God, yes," Harry gasped back. It was almost painful now how hard he was for the man now hovering over him. He felt he may break apart with a single touch too rough. On the other hand, if Hamish left him now he certainly would disintegrate into nothing. His very being was tethered to the gentle pull of a zip, the soft slide of fabric from his shoulders, off his arms, and down past his hips. They'd seen each other naked countless times before, but lying in the grass in just his pants was the most exposed Harry had been in his entire sheltered life.

"I cannae tell you how beautiful ye look here, Harry. A fallen angel… ye are breathtaking." Harry drew his shame-dropped eyes to Hamish's. There was an incomprehensible awe there, a reverence that he had never imagined this stoic man could feel. The intense focus made his skin crawl, and not in the good way. It did, however, give him the courage to reach out and grasp Hamish's hand, leading it to rest on his abdomen, just above where he wanted it most.

"Touch me, Hamish," he pleaded. "Touch me."

If possible, the emotion in his eyes deepened even further. "Ye would give me the privilege?"

"I give you everything. All of me." He willed Hamish to know that he spoke the truth from the depths of his soul. 

Hamish’s face lit up with a blinding smile. “And I you, Harry.” Hamish’s fingers curled into the waistband of his pants, sliding them gently down over his hips and down past his knees. “Oh, Harry,” he breathed. Harry kept his eyes locked onto Hamish’s face as his hand moved to curl around Harry’s cock. Harry’s hips jumped and a sharp breath escaped his mouth. “Shh, I have you.”

He began a slow stroke up and down his cock, each sending sparks up Harry’s spine. Soon, he had to keep himself from moaning too loudly. “Hamish,” he pleaded.

Suddenly, a wet warmth engulfed his cock and he cried out, cutting off the sound midway. His eyes snapped down to see Hamish’s mouth stretched around him, and a glorious suction brought his hips bucking up off the lawn. Already, he was feeling a familiar pressure building. “I’m close,” he gasped. “God, Hamish, so good.” A hot, wet press of a tongue against his slit had him gasping, thrusting up as he came right down Hamish’s throat. The world around him was lost as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

He was aware of fingers in his hair and a soft voice in his ear. “Harry, my Harry. So beautiful.”

“That was…” he trailed off, still breathing hard.

“Good?”

“So fucking good.” He pulled Hamish in, claiming his mouth again. He felt Hamish grind against his thigh once again, his erection rock solid. He pulled back “Do you want me to?”

“Nae, Harry. This was for ye. I can come just like this.” His breath stuttered at another slow roll against Harry’s hip bone. Their lips met again and Harry gave over his tongue, Hamish sucking it just as well as his cock. The only sign of Hamish’s orgasm was a twitch of his hips and a soft sigh into Harry’s mouth before he melted against him.

In the summer sun, they laid together and breathed. Overhead, the clouds continued to roll by, occasionally throwing their world into shadow.

“I’m leaving the Galahad trials,” Hamish said suddenly.

Harry sat up quickly, turning to catch his eyes. “What? You can’t just leave Kingsman. They could kill you!”

“No, Harry, I’m not leaving forever. We all know I’m nae good enough to be Galahad. They’ve offered me a job.” Hamish sat up beside him, running a hand up Harry’s arm. “I’m going to work in R&D.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t even considered and alternative to being an agent. “So you get to stay? Just like that?”

“Aye, and if ye become Galahad, and I know ye will, then we both get to stay.”

Hope washed over Harry like the hot sunlight. Neither of them had to leave. Neither would be the other, neither would be silenced or killed. They could be together. “We could be together.”

“And I fully intend to when ye become a knight.”

Harry couldn’t help the delighted laugh that escaped. “I love you, Hamish.” His cheeks were spread painfully wide as he grinned.

Hamish pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love ye too, my beautiful butterfly.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
